USS Sagan

“Cardassian attack force has dropped out of warp at the system boundary, Captain,” Ops reported. “Four cruisers, three destroyers, five escorts, and eight troop carriers in javelin formation.”

“Acknowledged,” Tinubu said, turning her gaze to th’Skaar at the helm. “They’ll either hold that formation and drive straight for the colony or they’ll split up and attempt a pincer or envelopment maneuver.”

“Yes, sir,” th’Skaar answered. “Only time will tell.”

“ETA?” she asked.

“Thirty seven minutes if they maintain their course and remain at three-quarters impulse, sir.”

Tinubu called over her shoulder to the tactical officer. “Status of our minefield?”

“We’re dropping the last string now, sir. Estimated ten minutes until that’s completed.”

Lieutenant Vantley turned back from Ops to regard Tinubu. “Sir, I’m obligated to point out that deploying mines is in direct violation of several Starfleet regulations and Federation laws.”

Tinubu smiled grimly. “I’ll be sure to note that in my log, Lieutenant. However, as Starfleet traditionally doesn’t pursue posthumous courts-martial, we’re not likely to face prosecution.”

The bridge crew shared in a moment of mordant levity before Tinubu directed them all back to the mission at hand.

“Our priority will be the troop ships. We’ll try and draw the cruisers out and then double back to make a run on their transports. The more of those we can destroy or disable, the better chance the colony has to survive until help arrives.”

The bridge crew nodded their understanding.

“I thank you all for volunteering to remain behind with me,” Tinubu offered. “It was easy to speak the words of our oath when we were first inducted. This... this is where our true mettle is proved. May fortune favor our endeavor here today.”

Civil Safety Shelter #2 – Nehru Colony

Daniel Craddock stepped into the small operations room that controlled the shields and power systems of the bunker complex, nodding to Nina Acharya as he did so.

“Safety seals check out,” he reported. “Atmospheric processors are optimal, and we’ve topped off the replicatable matter stores.”

Acharya blew out a relieved sigh. “Glad to hear it. Now we can button this baby up tight and wait for the cavalry. It’ll take the Cardies a lot of time and firepower to punch through our shields.”

Cardies, Craddock reflected. It was strange that for the briefest of moments, he’d actually shared Acharya’s dread of the Cardassians. He was legitimately sad that Nina was on ops duty today, as he rather liked her. Hers had always been a calm, steady, and positive influence on the people around her.

Craddock stepped forward as he withdrew the plasma torch from his tool belt. He activated the device and jammed it against Acharya’s neck as she began to turn, reacting to the sound of the torch igniting. Her scream was mercifully cut short as the torch killed her almost instantly.

He eased her body gently to the floor, struggling with overwhelming regret for having had to murder her. It was his duty, of course. It had been for just such an eventuality that he had been surgically altered and sent to live here among the Humans some two decades earlier.

He was from a poor family, and his service to the state had provided his parents and siblings with food and shelter, things they would have otherwise lacked. Now, despite his reservations, he would carry through with his mission. To refuse or to fail would result in the death of whatever family of his still remained on the homeworld. Such was the price of obedience to the Obsidian Order.

Craddock severed the communications and data links to the colony’s main operations center, knowing that an armed response would arrive within minutes to investigate. However, the same formidable defenses that were designed to thwart Cardassian invaders would prevent the colony’s constabulary from making forced entry before it was too late. He locked and secured the door to the operations room and sealed all of the shelter’s interior pressure doors to prevent anyone inside from attempting to stop him.

He then released the primary safeties on the bunker’s fusion reactor and spent long minutes introducing the painstakingly crafted computer viruses smuggled to him weeks earlier that would disengage all remaining safety overrides and allow the reactor to go supercritical.

Two thousand of the Nehru Colony’s thirty thousand inhabitants would be consumed in the ensuing explosion. The facility’s shields would prevent the five-megaton detonation from annihilating the rest of the colony, but the collateral damage would be extensive.

Eight kilometers away, another surgically altered Cardassian operative was carrying out the same treachery in Shelter #5. Following these attacks, it was expected that the remaining shelters would be evacuated to prevent any additional sabotage from claiming further lives.

That would send tens of thousands of civilians into the streets just as the Cardassian invasion force touched down, throwing what had been a prepared defense by the constabulary, home-guard, and Starfleet ground forces into utter chaos. Now their foes would have to struggle to shepherd panicked civilians as Cardassian troops closed in.

Craddock, or more correctly Agent Velis Kinaar entered the final command string into the computer to push the fusion reactor into overload.

He paused before toggling the final key stroke and closed his eyes. “My life for Cardassia,” he whispered before unleashing hell upon the very people he had spent the last twenty years with.

A famished Sandhurst was munching on a Starfleet survival ration bar when his combadge chirped and Morozov’s voice issued from it. “Sagan has signaled that they’ve engaged the Cardassian force in high orbit. We can expect Cardassians on the surface in minutes. Be prepared for them to beam in or to come down in landing craft. This is it, people. Take up your assigned positions and remember to confer with your civilian counterparts.”

He took a swig from his canteen and then put it back in his backpack. Hefting his pack onto his back, Sandhurst fell in the with the rest of his engineering support team as they moved to a small bunker constructed from newly poured ferroconcrete over a tritanium mesh. From here they would monitor the status of their portable shield generators and automated phaser emplacements, ensuring that the power feeds from the firehose like EPS trunk running between them was maintained.

As he hustled towards the bunker, he could hear a familiar voice raised in agitation.

“So, you’re telling me nobody’s going to clear and secure that hilltop?”

Sandhurst paused to see Lar’ragos facing off against one of the colony’s constables as Cadet Bartolo stood by.

The constable looked to Bartolo. “Is this guy one of yours or is he some kind of historical reenactor who wandered in here?”

“Don’t talk to him, talk to me!” Lar’ragos demanded, taking a step closer to the man. “If the Cardies get a fire team up there, we’re finished. This whole elaborate ‘choke point’ of yours is going to last all of five minutes, and then they’ll sweep into the colony through here.”

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, Cadet, but you’d better step back before—” the man reached out a hand to push Lar’ragos back and was surprised when Bartolo caught his wrist and forced his arm down.

“Trust me,” Bartolo said, “you really don’t want to do that.”

“I’m not trying to get into a pissing contest with you,” Lar’ragos pressed, “but you’re ignoring some very basic rules of surface warfare here.”

“I understand you think that,” the man replied hotly. “Just what makes you such an expert?”

Lar’ragos paused, shooting a guilty look at Bartolo before replying to the constable. “Because I used to plan and execute attacks just like the ones the Cardassians are carrying out here.” He pointed to the hill. “And seizing that high ground to use it against you would have been a priority for me.”

“Well, if you want to hike all the way up there and—”

A breathtaking flash of light erupted to the west, causing all of them to reflexively cover their eyes. A shockwave convulsed the ground just a moment before a wall of wind and debris knocked everyone standing in the open off their feet.

People cried out, crawling or scuttling behind whatever cover was nearest. Amid the coughing and cursing someone began screaming, “Orbital bombardment! Orbital bombardment!”

Sandhurst had fallen backwards into the makeshift bunker during the explosion and came staggering out to help Bartolo, Lar’ragos and the constable to their feet. All three men were blinking rapidly, trying to clear their vision from the effects of the blinding flare of light.

“What the hell was that?” the constable croaked.

“Something went boom,” Lar’ragos said helpfully.

The group heard the whine of intermittent phaser and stunner fire as panicked defenders began shooting at sensor ghosts and fluttering debris in the twilight.

Bartolo groused, “That’s just great. Now they’re giving away our firing positions.”

The Starfleeter’s combadges erupted with static, followed by Morozov’s voice which sounded tinny and distorted with electromagnetic interference. “This is Morozov at Colony Operations. We’ve detected a fusion explosion at one of the civil defense shelters. It appears the shields there contained much of the detonation, which is why we’re all still here. The colony director is telling me that shouldn’t have been possible, and they’re looking into it. For now, maintain your defensive positions under cover in case this isn’t an isolated incident. We have no verified reports of any Cardassian boots on the ground as yet. I repeat, no verified reports of Cardassian troops on the surface. Sagan and the colony’s orbital defenses are still are engaging the enemy.”

Sandhurst looked up and could just make out faint traces of energy beams and flashes in the darkening sky he presumed were explosions.

Bartolo chucked Lar’ragos on the shoulder. “I’m going to go get our people sorted out and instill some trigger discipline. Sagan’s doing their job, it’s time we did ours.” He pointed to Sandhurst, and then up to the hill that had so agitated Lar’ragos. “Take Sandhurst and a squad up there and set up the last of our phaser turrets. I don’t want the Cardassians dominating the local terrain.”

“On it, sir,” Lar’ragos nodded. And he meant it. Whatever Bartolo lacked in experience, the young man made up for it in raw charisma and solid judgment. He was a natural leader, the kind that inspired loyalty, even in a man nearly four-hundred years his senior.

The troop compartment of the aged drop ship reeked of solvent, lubricants and the stink of too many nervous men crammed together into too tight a space.

Dal Durak Var wondered if this old workhorse of a landing craft had ever carried his father into battle a generation earlier. He reflected bitterly that while he and his comrades would have to descend into the target planet’s gravity well on this rickety museum piece, risking being blotted out of the sky by enemy weapons, the Second Order’s elite commandos and shock troops would be allowed to utilize the Union’s new transporter technology to simply materialize on the surface.

Such was the fate of a Cardassian conscript, he mused. To suffer countless dangers and risk spilling one’s blood in the dirt of an alien planet, all for the greater glory of the state. He gripped the barrel of his pulse rifle that sat butt-plate to the deck with its neck held between his knees. The ancient scatter-gun was cocooned in a leather scabbard slung over one shoulder.

Var jostled against the hard, narrow jump seat as the drop ship screamed into the atmosphere, maneuvering violently to try and throw off the enemy’s targeting scanners.

Across from him Arvik sat rigidly in his seat, his face a rictus of naked terror as the craft plummeted down the gravity well.

“Is this the grand adventure you’d hoped?” Var shouted across to him.

In response, Arvik struggled valiantly to keep from throwing up.

Var glanced over his shoulder out the milky, pitted viewport just in time to see another drop ship holed through by a phaser beam. Flaming bodies tumbled out the breach as the craft yawed wildly and then exploded.

Var returned to studying the juddering barrel of his rifle as his recently departed comrades rained towards the surface far below like blazing comets.

“Tighter turn radius,” Tinubu gasped as she pulled herself back into the command chair.

Consoles flickered, fizzled and sent gouts of sparks into the already smoke-laden air of the bridge. The reek of burning electronics and plastics assaulted Tinubu’s nose as she reflected distractedly that Ensign Kaigler’s body had broken her fall after the last volley of Cardassian missiles had savaged Sagan’s port shields.

Th’Skaar’s only response was a pained grunt as he slewed the ship between a Cardassian destroyer and the wreckage of a frigate they’d immolated during their last pass through the enemy formation.

“Two enemy transports to starboard!” Lieutenant Saadeh called from the Science station, one of the few left operable on the bridge’s outer ring.

The Tactical console chimed repeatedly, signifying outgoing phaser fire directed by th’Skaar on the cruiser as Sagan streaked past. He swung the ship hard over and suddenly visible through the wavering, static-filled viewscreen were two of the large troop ships disgorging a swarm of landing craft.

“Torpedoes!” Tinubu ordered. An instant later, crimson orbs of destructive energy rifled from Sagan’s forward tubes to blast apart both transports and a handful of drop ships caught in the troop ship’s death throes.

Another jolting impact seemed to slam the starship sideways, beginning a lateral spin that th’Skaar struggled to correct.

“That’s it for the port and ventral shields!” Vantley cried out from Ops, as he labored to glean data from flickering readouts.

“Phaser energy is dropping,” th’Skaar growled, throwing a few weakening beams at a cruiser that had just stumbled into one of their mines.

“EPS junctions are out all over the ship,” Vantley confirmed. “Engineering has their hands full just trying to keep the main reactor online right now.”

“Okay, let’s fall back to the planet,” Tinubu ordered. “The defense grid can take some of the heat off us. We need to pick off the rest of those drop ships.”

“Still… still trying bring us around,” th’Skaar gurgled, forcing himself to ignore the bluish blood welling from his neck. “Helm’s… sluggish.”

A cruiser, flanked by a damage frigate, bore down on the wounded Sagan as she slewed to-and-fro under diminished helm control.

Knowing that th’Skaar had his hands full with flight control, Vantley quickly reconfigured his console for weapons control and lashed the oncoming vessels with a volley of torpedoes and the last of their dwindling phaser energy.

The prow of the oncoming cruiser buckled under the onslaught and she veered hard away, trailing atmosphere. The frigate, however, continued on undaunted.

Saadeh cried out a warning, “Collision course!” as she tried in vain to reroute all remaining shield power to cover that quarter.

Tinubu shouted, “Emergency power to shiel—"

The two craft met at a combined velocity of nearly half-impulse, one-eighth the speed of light. The blossoming antimatter explosion that marked their union could be seen from the surface.

Sagan’s fight was now bequeathed to her personnel on the surface of Arandis IV and the civilians they sought to safeguard.